Lancer reclined in her alt form next to Arcee's berth, grinning to herself long after they were both supposed to be in recharge. Full to brimming with energon for the first time in millennia, Lancer wasn't in a mood to power down for the night. She wanted to savor this feeling, to revel in it. Besides, she had several years' worth of news to catch up on, and her once-sister's unease was entirely too entertaining. Arcee had even been straight-forward about what Flatline did to her spark, but one question about her spark-energy levels and suddenly she was all evasive. /You can't fool me, Arcee. I saw the way you look at him./

/What do you mean?/

Well, if Arcee was going to give Lancer a hard time, she decided to return the favor. /I always thought you two were more compatible than you claimed./

Arcee gave a frustrated groan. /There's nothing between me and Ratchet./

/You pulled a double-shift through the night. You mean to tell me nothing happened in the med bay?/

/Nothing happened in the med bay,/ she flatly replied. /Now get some recharge./

/Nu-uh. If not Ratchet, then who? You've been saving up that spark-energy charge for some lucky mech for the last 8,000 years, and it's dropped a bit since I saw you last. So 'fess up. Who are you sharing sparks with?/

/Seriously, Ultra Magnus is going to have your helm on a pike for keeping us both up – unless something's changed there?/

/Nope, he's as hard-aft as ever about rules and regs./ Lancer's smile faltered. /If anything, he's even firmer about discipline now than he was before we lost Elita./

/How many do we have left on Cybertron?/

/Around a thousand, after Starscream's slaughter./ Lancer shut down the threads of thought that inevitably followed, instead saying, /But you changed the subject on me./

/Slag off,/ Arcee said, but Lancer could hear the humor in her voice.

Since Arcee wasn't going to confess, Lancer took a more direct approach. /So...you and Bumblebee./

/So...you and Magnus./

/That was supposed to be discreet./

/Like you could hide anything from me, even without a sister-bond./

Lancer huffed softly in annoyance. /Still, it's not anywhere near the same./

/No?/ Arcee shifted in her bunk. /Great team in battle, loyal friends, good-sparked mech willing to help a femme out./

/Bumblebee is adorable. Ultra Magnus…/

/...was sparked fully-grown and without a sense of humor?/

Lancer snorted in amusement. /Fair point, though he does have a redeeming quality or two./ After a moment, she asked, /Was 'Bee worth the wait?/

/Every fragging astrosecond of it./

/And you'll keep my secret about Ultra Magnus?/ Lancer tentatively asked.

/That's what sisters are for,/ Arcee answered.

/Ain't that the truth./ Satisfied, Lancer grinned again. /So what can we expect tomorrow? I mean, we're scheduled for more time in human integration training than on the proving grounds. We've got Earth's weird atmospherics to adapt to, so why the emphasis on holoforms?/

/That's Optimus indulging Spitfire. She wouldn't ask for it, but he knows she's dying to meet all the new arrivals. She's...you just have to experience it. She takes to hospitality like a Seeker to the skies. But holoforms are more important here than you might think. They're incredibly useful, as long as you can pass as human. And that's where Spitfire has made herself invaluable./

"Autobots, roll out!" Chromia said the next morning and powered up her engine. Arcee and Ironhide joined her, along with Lancer, Firestar, Inferno, Beachcomber, Blaster, Kup and Windcharger.

Lancer's thoughts turned toward their destination as she and the others followed Chromia.

She was even more curious about the human females now than she had been when the sun set last night. Spitfire and Samuel Prime's mate Warrior Goddess were the only actual leaders she was aware of, though she'd observed a few female NEST soldiers, so the women weren't limited to leadership roles. From some of the things Arcee had said last night, though, it was clear humans had very different attitudes toward their females than the Autobots did.

Major William Lennox (Lancer still mentally choked on calling him 'Iron Will') lived in a house that looked shockingly frail. His mate stood in front of their home, watching the Autobots approach with an expression Lancer's holoform library indicated was impressed and possibly admiring. Lancer could only guess that it was because she and her fellow crewmates were all still in Cybertronian alt-forms. Apparently the vehicles for them to scan had to be shipped in, and that would take a couple of weeks. In the meantime, they had to stay on base unless they had an escort.

Chromia rolled to a stop and her holoform, Mia Christiansen, dismounted from her motorcycle. "Hi Sarah!"

"Hi Mia! Hyde, River, glad you could make it." She shook each of their hands as she greeted them. Then she looked expectantly at the rest of the newcomers.

As the highest-ranking officer there, Lancer took the lead and activated her holoform. Spitfire stepped right up to her and extended her hand. "Welcome! I'm Sarah Lennox, though my friends call me Spitfire."

"Well met, Spitfire. I'm Alana Christiansen," Lancer said and grasped her hand. Spitfire flinched slightly, and Alana loosened her grip. "Sorry."

"No worries," Sarah answered with a chuckle. "You look like you could give Will a run for his money in an arm-wrestling match!"

"That's unusual?" Alana asked.

"Human males tend toward greater upper-body strength than females," Sarah said, "but it's a bell curve. You're within a reasonable variance. Same thing with the height. You're tall and strong, and you'll command respect."

Reassured, Alana nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, I don't hold military rank," Sarah said. "I'm a civilian. Also, the greeting 'well met' is more formal than you'll usually encounter, unless you happen to be among cosplayers."

After a quick search for that last term, the newcomers looked at each other in bewilderment. Transforming robots appreciated the appeal of dressing up, but it was the idea of entertainment like a comic con that threw them. There must have been a vorn when their race had enjoyed leisure time, when there were cultural events they could attend, when they hadn't seen the universe through the optics of "friend, foe, and neutral," but it was in the distant past, even for them. The concept of 'civilian' was almost as unfamiliar as 'cosplayers.'

Beachcomber was the first to recover. "Hi, I'm Bret Coomb, though my friends call me Beachcomber."

"Well done!" Sarah said as she shook his hand. One by one, she moved through the crowd, greeting them each in turn and offering corrections as needed.

/I see what you mean,/ Alana commed to R.C. as they watched Sarah. /She's very kind and patient, like a teacher of younglings I used to know back before the War./

R.C. snorted softly in amusement. /I never made that connection until now, but I'll take it as a compliment./

Sarah invited them all inside, and they filled the small space that was her living room. "Please forgive me if I forget any of your names. And yes, human memory is that poor sometimes, though we do place a high value on remembering a person's name. It's polite to remind them of your name if anyone asks. So… these are cookies. They're sweeter than most food, but they're easily eaten. Each of you take one," she said, passing the plate of stacked chocolate chip cookies around. Then after explaining them, Sarah modeled each step – biting the cookie, chewing, and swallowing.

Alana mimicked Sarah and bit into her cookie, and her oral sensors went wild with feedback from her holoform library. She tried to remember her training but choked a little and her holoform reflexively coughed – all of which were new experiences for her. Sarah patted her on the shoulder. "Slow down, there. And it's Alana, right?"

Alana nodded and focused inward. Breathing system was cleared – check. The bite of cookie was still in her mouth, but it seemed to be disintegrating, more or less. She shook her head, trying to pull away from the overwhelmingly sweet, rich sensations hitting her processors. Apparently, the holoform library's gustatory thresholds had been programmed by someone who thought this was the height of good taste.

"Chew," Sarah prompted, and Alana obeyed. After a moment, she said, "Good, now try swallowing."

"That...was amazing," Alana said when the holoform was able to speak again.

Sarah grinned. "Thanks! I made them myself."

Alana stared at her in awe, remembering Optimus making energon just the day before. "You made them?"

"Google 'baking,' and 'cooking' while you're at it," R.C. told the newcomers, not even bothering to hide her smirk. "Spitfire's skills aren't quite as impressive as Optimus' but she's still a master in the kitchen."

"I'll second that!" Mia handed the plate of cookies to R.C. and she took one with a grateful nod.

Alana did a quick internet search and realized her mistake. Thankfully, Sarah seemed completely unconcerned that she'd just been taken down a peg or two in their optics. It was a kind of humility that was born of a strong sense of self and self-worth, and it was a trait Lancer valued. Or at least, it would be among Cybertronians. These humans were aliens, after all, and it was anybot's guess if Alana was reading her correctly.

Once everyone had finished their cookies, the humans and R.C., Mia, and Hyde started passing around clear, empty vessels. "Glasses," Sarah said by way of explanation. "We'll be filling them with milk, which is a beverage commonly served with cookies."

"If I may," Alana interrupted, "why the emphasis on eating? Our holoforms will not need organic nourishment."

Sarah nodded with a smile. "An excellent question. The short answer is that even if it's just to blend in, you need to know the basics of how to eat. For the long answer, look to the etymology of the word 'companion.' It means 'one with whom you break bread.' Food, particularly meals, are an important part of human culture all across the globe. It goes beyond survival and includes rituals of friendship, family, community, and even religion. Different foods are used to celebrate or memorialize different events. Understanding and being able to participate meaningfully in these rituals are an important way of signaling identity and culture."

"We're not so different, in some ways," Alana said.

Sarah tilted her head curiously, and R.C. said to her, "Energon."

"Ah."

Mia and Hyde started filling everyone's glasses, and Sarah again walked them all through the steps of sipping and swallowing.

Windcharger's holoform managed to spill milk down his torso, and Sarah ordered him to pause when he was about to reset it. "Let me show you the human way to clean it up first. Then you can clean up properly."

Impressed, Alana commed R.C. /She didn't even get impatient./

/Nope./

/So where did the name 'Spitfire' come from? The word itself indicates a person with a fierce temper./

R.C. shared the memory Ironhide had shared with her. It was the first time Sarah Lennox had spoken with Ironhide, and he'd been in his base mode at the time. The little human glared at him with an intensity that made clear she honestly believed she could inflict every single injury she threatened. Alana nodded in understanding. /She couldn't do any of that, though. Half of that didn't even make any sense./

/Maybe not,/ R.C. allowed, /but don't underestimate these squishies. Samuel Prime was only a youngling when he killed Megatron. Iron Will has personally killed several Decepticons. And Spitfire is his mate./

/It's not the same among humans, is it?/

/No, but in the case of this bonded pair, it's close enough./

...

They went through various human gestures and motions – using eating utensils, walking, sitting, standing – until they were interrupted by a transmission from Cliffjumper that went out to every Autobot on Earth. Optimus and Ultra Magnus were sparring, and Lancer grinned as the livestream filled her field of vision.

"Is there a problem?" Sarah asked of the suddenly-silent room.

"Phone," was all R.C. said in answer.

Sarah fished for it in her purse and covered her mouth in shock at the violence playing out on the little screen. "What on Earth?"

"They're just sparring," Mia reassured her.

Sarah let out a low whistle of surprise. Eyes fixed on the video, she said, "Let's take a little break..."

...

The group of Autobots at the Lennox house was joined at lunchtime by the rest of the new arrivals, plus Optimus, Bumblebee, and Sam. They filled the front yard and part of the back yard, and both Optimus and Ultra Magnus had to park in the driveway. In front of the Prime, Ultra Magnus' holoform praised Alana skills as a strategist and member of his command team, and her spark brightened…or heart warmed, as the humans would say.

In preparation for the lunch they were about to eat – their first as true companions – Sarah Lennox gave Magnus' group instructions on how holoforms can process human food. Since this was all a recap for her, Alana's gaze started to wander, and she noticed Arcee was nowhere to be found. Curious, Alana walked around to the front yard and saw that her bike was missing, too. Getting suspicious now, she looked for a certain yellow Camaro, but he was missing as well. Smirking to herself, she returned to the back yard. Those two were probably off wearing out that interfacing facility Prowl had mentioned in the new-arrival packet. She was glad her former-sister had finally found a mech worth her time.

Once everyone was happily eating, Sarah Lennox approached her and said, "Could I speak with you privately for a moment?"

Puzzled, Alana nodded. "Of course."

They walked around to the front yard, and Sarah softly said, "I noticed you left during my instructions. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't a problem."

A smile spread over Alana's face. "No, no problem. The opposite actually."

Sarah tilted her head in a motion Alana's holoform library flagged as 'curious.' "Oh?"

"I assume you know about Arcee and Bumblebee."

"Ah," Sarah chuckled. "Yes."

"I didn't realize they had snuck off together until she disappeared during lunch."

"Well, most of the time they're stationed on opposite sides of the planet, so…"

"She 'faces him senseless every chance she gets."

Sarah made an odd, choking sound and turned a little pink. "That's one way of putting it, yes."

Apparently she'd amused the human. Feeling pleased with herself, Alana asked, "Anything else you needed, Sarah?"

"I did have one question, actually. I noticed that you chose the same last name as Arcee and Chromia. Are you related?"

"We used to be. Arcee and I were sisters through a femme named Moonracer. She was extinguished long ago, and we've been severed ever since. It was in honor of that lost sisterhood that I took her last name. It seemed culturally appropriate. Was I wrong?"

"No, not at all. And my condolences about your extinguished sister and the lost bond."

Alana nodded solemnly in acknowledgment.

"I don't mean to pry," Sarah continued, "but I know Elita and Chromia are also sisters with Arcee. I've never met any of their extended kin and so I was curious how that all worked."

"You know Ratchet, and he was kin to them as well."

Sarah's eyebrows rose in surprise like two fuzzy doorwings. "Ratchet was kin to you and Arcee?"

"Yes. He was Moonracer's mate, before she fell. His was another lost kinbond."

Sarah blinked in a way that was flagged as 'surprised' and she looked down. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." Trying to change the subject to something a bit more cheerful, Alana asked, "What about you? You have your mate, Iron Will. Do you have any other kin?"

"Only far away, and I don't see them much anymore. Dad has passed and my mom lives with my kid brother. But I also have a nine-year-old daughter, Annabelle, here with me on the island. And, of course, I have you 'bots as adopted kin, too."

"You are a mother," Alana breathed in awe as the pieces finally fell into place. The patience, the kindness, the wisdom…

Sarah turned pink again, though Alana couldn't figure out why this time. "Yes. Many women my age are, if not most. Though here on Diego Garcia, fewer women will be moms, I guess. Sam has a wife, a mate, named Mikaela and she'll be a mom soon, too. That's why she didn't accompany Sam this time. She's in her first trimester and struggling with some pretty bad morning sickness. The motion sickness from the long flight here would have been miserable for her, so she opted to sit this visit out."

Alana looked at her in confusion just as Ironhide bellowed for Sarah from the back yard. The human patted Alana's hand. "Google 'pregnancy' and 'childbirth.' I'm sure you'll have questions, and I'll be happy to answer them in a bit."

As she slowly followed Sarah to the backyard, Alana ran the suggested search. There was an astounding array of information on the web, some of it clear and useful, much of it contradictory, and occasionally it was condescending enough to be offensive even to a mechanical, alien female. Knowing what it took for these humans to get a frame and make it into existence gave her a new perspective on them, though. Each one was bought with their mother's blood. It was a powerful concept, one that made the condescension all the more baffling.

Chromia took her place in the middle of the training range with Lancer's team standing in a half-circle around her. "Earth is fragging weird – there's just no other way to describe it. Unpredictable, wildly variable, salty, soggy, shifty, icy, muddy, you name it. We have battled 'cons in all of these conditions. Nobody likes the snow, though…"

"Especially after Megatron spent a few thousand years trapped in ice," Ironhide added, grinning. That got him a few chuckles and a glare from Chromia for interrupting her.

"...so we're going to start with sandy conditions. Most of our battles have been in deserts. Lancer, step forward."

She did as ordered but with an inward sigh, hoping that no one got it into their processors to broadcast this sparring match. Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus had been impressive in the dueling ring even before the War started, and watching their powerful frames compete was always a thrill. She, however, was a tactician and, before that, an enforcer with only minimal close-quarters combat training. Chromia was going to wipe the floor with her, or whatever the sandy equivalent of that was.

"Level-three forms," Chromia ordered.

At least she was starting with something basic, Lancer thought, as she took the appropriate position. Chromia struck out with a kick, and Lancer dodged with the answering motion only to slide and wobble on the sand.

"See, it's not like the dust of so many rocky planets," Chromia said as Lancer regained her footing. "It's treacherous. You all saw both Prime and Magnus go down in this sand. It'll take you down, too. All of you go through level-three and -four forms with a partner. Firestar, you team up with Inferno. Beachcomber and Blaster, work together. That leaves Kup and Windcharger. Ironhide and I will help you adapt your forms."

As the rest of the newcomers started in with the training, Lancer grumbled, "Arcee is more interested in leaving lessons than dents. I'd rather spar with her."

Chromia struck out with a kick again, and this time Lancer effectively dodged it, even if she didn't manage to do it gracefully.

"Decepticons don't pull their punches," Chromia said, waving encouragement for Lancer to take her turn with the kick. "It would be doing you a disservice if I pulled them. Besides, I guarantee you she's leaving dents right now. Or at the very least, paint transfers."

Lancer grinned at the thought.

Despite Lancer's grumbling, she didn't really have any dents by the time they were done, just a few dings that wouldn't even need to be pulled out.

"Next we head back to base," Chromia announced. "I know how that grit itches after landing on your aft in the sand a few times. We'll get cleaned up and then we'll give you a tactical briefing."

As the other mechs and femmes dusted themselves off and transformed, Lancer noticed Beachcomber drifting toward some trees down by the lagoon. Curious, she followed him.

"Problem, Beachcomber?" she asked as she approached.

"It's freshwater. Or close enough."

"What?"

"It's a lagoon, not a lake, and it's freshwater. Here in the middle of a highly-salinated ocean, we have this freshwater lagoon. Chromia wasn't kidding about the amazing diversity of this planet."

Lancer grinned. Beachcomber was as delighted as Chromia had been annoyed. "I'll see if we can't schedule you some time to study it. But in the meantime, we'd better stick with the others. Come on."

He nodded and they followed their fellow Autobots back to the base.

Lancer leaned against the back wall of the Autobot barracks. Wheeljack's presentation on how Earth's environments and their weapon systems did or didn't cooperate was useful enough. But right now, she was really enjoying Prowl's tactical briefing. Part of the reason she enjoyed it was because she was a tactician, and all of this information was critical to her function. Part of it was also because the news was so good. Earth was exceptionally-well defended. It was also well-provisioned with multiple, rich sources of power and, of course, the ability to create energon would by itself change the course of the War. Not one but two true Primes, plus the unexpectedly fierce allies they found in the humans, were also a pleasant surprise.

Toward the end of the briefing, Arcee sidled into the barracks. She had the high gloss of someone who'd just come from the wash racks, and Lancer tilted her helm in greeting. /I'll have you know I had to spar with Chromia. You owe me./

Arcee joined her in leaning against the wall and glanced over at her. /You don't look too banged up for the experience./

/But I don't think I learned enough. I was too busy trying to avoid her blows to really get the hang of it. The wash and wax afterward was bliss, though./

Arcee smirked. /We'll have to get Spitire to give you a washdown one of these days. It's a hundred times better. You'll never be happy with wash racks again./

Lancer looked sidelong at Arcee to gauge her reaction when she said, /Up for a sparring match later?/ When Arcee frowned slightly, Lancer added, /After your yellow distraction of a Camaro heads home, of course./

Arcee's frown became a genuine smile. /Deal./